I always liked putting my music on shuffle

The thrill of the (un)known, what would play next

You see I would carefully construct a playlist prior to shuffling

I didn't really like not knowing things
Just being slightly surprised , it was all lies

Because I was waiting constantly for change and when it occurred I was outraged because I thought that I knew what you were going to do

And then you threw it in my face
And now I'm lost and out of place because when I put my life on shuffle

I didn't anticipate that you would download new music.

Times New Roman reminds me of a time when I knew that romance was not dead because I got to hold it in my hand 
 
The curve of the characters reminds me of the uneven curve of your cupids bow

The claustrophobic clustering of vowels reminds me of the cringe worthy cling of your foggy glass  frames stuck to mine, failing sight feeding failed intimacy

The simplicity of each symbol reminds me of the systematic sufficiency with which you seduced me in so few words,
 the straightforward soliloquy with which you struck me and bereft me of my sanity.

The length of each letter reminds me of the longevity of our last embrace
Lanky limbs looped laterally to the length of my body for literal milliseconds

The overuse in overdue essays typed in early hours of the morning reminds me of the overuse of three words and the emptiness and lack of effort behind them, 

Submitting those three words for a good grade and a pat on the back, coming up short because professor and princess alike saw through the inability to do
With meaning,
That your words had no feeling.

The fact that though I've faced fancier fonts and fell for them fanatically, I always return to the first, reminds me that though a fair few have found more than friendship in my fragile forearms that the first is the forever 
and if at times the former 
then always the future

the finest font I've ever found is you

You don't need anyone in life
You are independent and strong
You preach the uselessness that is human affection

"It's a common infection, everyone will get over it sooner or later" you say

You like to be alone

So you never reach for the phone or a pen to contact a friend because who needs friends

You sit by yourself at the bar, the fourth stool from the right on a Thursday night
You watch people enter, meet their people, leave with people

You are intrigued but not affected

The bar tender observes your observations
The way your fingers drum the counter more rapidly when you listen in on their conversations
the lock of your gaze as hugging goodbyes are shared between relations

The bartender places his dish rag beside your half empty glass

His eyes meet yours and he says
"Darling you can make love to your tonic and gin
But it will never hold the warmth of human breath and skin"

You look into his eyes and suddenly you understand
Why it's important to sit knee to knee and why you hold hands
You press your hand into the glass countertop
Reach across the bar and grab the bar tenders hand
Bring his face to meet yours and bask in the heat of his humanity

You do not need anyone

But you do not need to be alone.